


Waverly, My Waverly

by Bootsncatz (bootsncatz)



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, I CANNOT EMPHASIS THAT ENOUGH, Wayhaught - Freeform, wynaught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 11:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootsncatz/pseuds/Bootsncatz
Summary: They say that true love can conquer all.  But they were wrong.  I had never seen a girl with so much love and yet I watched as you wasted away. You wasted away and I fell into your sister's arms.  We fell into each other's arms.





	Waverly, My Waverly

They say that true love can conquer all. But they were wrong. I had never seen a girl with so much love and yet-…I watched as you wasted away. Eaten from the inside out. And there was nothing we could do. 

We thought we had defeated it…the thing that had been living inside you. We did it, we all did it. Mostly Wynonna but…I saw the evil spill from your mouth. I watched as your eyes turned back into Waverly. _My Waverly._ I held you tight and kissed your lips when you came to. 

I had almost shot your sister for you.

But a few months later and things started to get weird. It started with a cough that wouldn’t go away. Just a small one at first that could be blamed on allergies. But your bones started to creak a little more, hair falling out in chunks. Your cough got worse and soon there was blood on your hand every time you pulled it away from your mouth. The doctor didn’t seem too worried at first. Probably just a vitamin deficiency or something easily fixed for a person as young and healthy. 

As tests kept coming back without any causes, the symptoms got worse. You couldn’t keep anything down, you could hardly sleep, and when you did it was plagued with nightmares. The doctor, now more concerned, couldn’t find a single reason for these things to be happening. All he could see was that her body was slowly deteriorating but with nothing to do about it. I was sure I was going crazy trying to keep track of every pill and vitamin and supplement was supposed to pass your lips each day. 

I’m pretty sure Wynonna killed a third of the revenants in mere months on a hunt to find the cure for you. Another third in three weeks after the day you collapsed and had to be rushed to the hospital. When she wasn’t mad with grief, she was drunk or angry. But we stayed optimistic. Every moment I wasn’t in the hospital with you, I was scouring libraries, old cases, any information that could possibly help. Jeremy and Rosita hadn’t left the basement lab in weeks. Dolls and Doc were…who knew where trying to find even the slightest hint at something that could fix you.

Finally it came to a point where you knew that you were going to die and nobody listened. Everyone kept going on their quests, trying to find a cure until you told me I had to bring them all back. You knew you didn’t have a lot of time left, even if we wouldn’t admit it. You knew. 

I laid in the hospital bed with you and stroked your thinning hair, and whisper sweet nothings in your ear like we were just young and in love and neither of us were dying. I’d tell you how much I love you. I’d tell you what we were going to do after you were better. What our lives would be like. You would just nod and press our foreheads together, the rattling of your breaths synching with the beating of my heart.

When they had to install the breathing tubes and you were only awake for a couple of hours a day, you asked me to stop talking about the future. I agreed and when I left the room, I collapsed in Wynonna’s arms and we fell asleep in the waiting room. Wynonna and I were hardly ever away from the hospital anymore. When the doctor came in and told us that we should start saying our goodbyes, we were practically holding each other up in that room with you.

You died in my arms, your hand clutching Wynonna’s tightly.

I think you could hear her scream all through the fifth floor of the hospital.

My heart broke a little more with each moment it had to beat without yours. It felt like the pain was crawling out of my chest, one painful centimeter at a time. I was sure that any day my heart would crawl from a hole in my chest. Every time I was jarred from a day dream, it was like I was just learning of your death each time. Every small moment of brevity and joy crashed down twice as hard.

Wynonna told me that when you were five you planned your own funeral. It would have been more creepy but you planned your entire life at five apparently. Wynonna pulled out the old, crudely made scrapbooks, one for each section of your life. 

Middle school: Be popular and get good grades.  
High school: Prom queen, head cheerleader, date the quarterback, get good grades  
College: Ivy League  
After college: marry the love of my life, be a dinosaur doctor and have two babies.

Wynonna told me how you made her help you with some of the bigger words. I traced my fingers over the little drawings you made, feeling the texture of the waxy crayon over the construction paper…

We did your funeral the exact way you asked. There were those little marshmallow rabbits you can only get at Easter, five hundred yellow dailies and cupcakes with little unicorns on them. It was beautiful and ridiculous and perfect. So so perfect. 

That night, Wynonna and I fell asleep on the floor of your bedroom. That tended to happen a lot after that. It was like neither one of us could bare to be alone, but neither of us could be with anyone and not the other. I would fall asleep crying, letting Wynonna hold me until I drifted off and I would wake up with Wynonna silently crying against me.

Sometimes I would wake up, feel her in my arms and swear it was you. Especially with the way that she curled up in her pain. She would look so small…so fragile. 

She blamed herself. Thought I’m sure you knew that before you even left us. She tortured herself by replaying her last few months over and over in her mind to try and figure out where she went wrong. The liquor didn’t make it better, but it kept it from getting worse. I was sure some day she would drink herself to death.

One night we were sleeping in Wynonna’s bed when she woke up with a scream. I opened my eyes to her pointing Peacemaker all around the room, screaming your name with wild eyes. I put a gentle hand on her arm and talked to her soothingly. As she calmed down, I sat up and slowly took Peacemaker from her trembling hands. Once I put the gun down on the side of the bed, Wynonna’s hands grasped tightly at my hips as if she was trying to ground herself. My hands reached up to cup her face, foreheads pressed together as I spoke softly to her. Without thinking I kissed her forehead and nose. I felt her stop breathing all together for a moment as our lips came even with each other. She looked at me and down at my lips. And I knew she wanted…maybe not me necessarily. But she wanted to feel something other then pain. I felt the same way.

I closed the gap and kissed her softly.

She is…so like you. Like you in enough ways that made my heart stop missing you, even for a moment. But different enough that I didn’t completely break with each touch. For the brief moments that we were entangled, the pain was at least bearable. I thought we were both using each other. Just a means to an end. Two people trying to find a connection to the person that we had lost.

Except then I woke up one night to see Wynonna staring down at me, a look of peace on her face. She played it off and pretended like I had something on my face, but I knew she looked up and to the left every time she lied.

Our fingers pressed into each other's flesh, lips pushed and pulled at each other. Wynonna's teeth would scrape the column of the throat as her hands reached the deepest parts of me. I left bruises on her chest and neck with my mouth. She would whimper in a way that reminded me of you when I was between her thighs. It was beautiful and heartbreaking and all together made me feel alive again.

I couldn’t continue this way. I couldn’t keep holding Wynonna and thinking how her feet tangled with my own when yours would brush along my shins while we were in bed. How there was a little more musk to her smell and you were more flowery. When I would nuzzle my nose into her hair, I would breath her in and let her scent sink into my bones. 

I think I love her in a way. I don’t know if I can ever truly, fully love her. I should give her up, let her go before I broke her heart or…she broke mine. I should give her up because how could two people brought together by grief live in anything other then that? But I worried that if I let her go, I would start to forget you. Waverly, my Waverly. The girl we couldn’t save. And the one we couldn’t forget.


End file.
